


Another Day in the Neighborhood

by Capstar98



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Pain, Psychological Trauma, comic book tie ins, movie tie ins, spider man universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-07 09:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17363615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capstar98/pseuds/Capstar98
Summary: Peter Parker just can't seem to do anything right, and everything is always working against him. While trying to balance all of the other parts of his life, including a new job, a messy relationship, and a concerned aunt, now he has to deal with a mysterious new threat that won't stop until Spider-Man is dead.





	1. A Hard Day's Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So, I'm really excited about this story. It's been really fun to write so far. But you should know a few things going into it. First, my idea was basically to write something that could be an arc in the comics. I pull stuff from all over the place, but my main inspiration is the comics, particularly Amazing Spider-Man (1999) and Spectacular Spider-Man. It doesn't follow any one thing, though. So here, Peter is working as a teacher and Mary Jane is an actress. This thing is gonna be a long ride, so don't expect too much action right away. Please let me know what you think! More updates soon!

MIDTOWN HIGH, Friday, 2:50 PM:

“So, a solution is when the particles of a solute are dissolved in the particles of a solvent.” Peter Parker looked out onto the group of twenty or so fourteen year olds and paced slowly in front of the white board. “We talked about this the other day - often it’s something obvious, like salt water. If you have a cup of ocean water, the water would be the solvent and the salt the solute.” Blank faces stared back at him. “Okay, anyone know how to do a German accent?”

Silence for a moment, then a hand raised. Peter pointed and a boy said, “I think like Chekov on Star Trek?”

Peter shrugged and nodded. “Close, Arthur, but not quite. Chekov’s Russian, so he says ‘v’s kind of like ‘w’s, but a German accent has ‘w’s sounding like ‘v’s. Like instead of saying watch, it would be vatch. So instead of saying water, they would say... ?”

“Vater!” A girl in the front said.

Peter clapped. “Nice! So when you’re thinking about solvents versus solutes, remember ‘v’ is for the vater! And the solute dissolves into the water. Make sense?”

There are at least a few nods this time.

“Of course, the solvent of a solution doesn’t have to be water, or even liquid at all. Air is actually a solution.” He looked around. “We need oxygen to breathe, right? But if air were all oxygen, you would die. Oxygen in air would be the solute, dissolved into the solvent, which would be nitrogen, since that’s the most --”

_brrRIINNGGG!_

The kids all started moving at once, the sounds of zipping backpacks and crinkling paper filling the room. “Alright, well I’ll see all of you on Monday. And don’t forget - we have a quiz! Okay, have a good weekend!”

“Bye!”

“Are you guys going to Martha’s tomorrow?”

“George, wait up!”

“Thanks, Mr. Parker.”

Peter grabbed an eraser and wiped down the white board of the day’s chemistry notes. He wanted to clean up quick and get out of there. It was still strange being back at Midtown High, but he was slowly getting used to it. These first few weeks had been a steep learning curve. At first he had often stayed late on Fridays to plan out the next week, but he had learned to get things done way ahead of time.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a group of football players rounding on a lanky, frightened boy. They pushed him up against the lockers and he hit them with a clang.

_Oh come on. Really?_

Peter put down the eraser and walked out into the hall. “Hey, why don’t you kids get a move on? It’s Friday - surely you should be headed out.”

The jocks stepped back quickly, and the boy fell to the ground.

One of them, a blonde guy who reminded Peter of Flash when he was in high school, was the first to move away, his friends following after him. “Sure thing, Mr. Parker. No problem.” He turned to look at the boy they had been surrounding and raised an eyebrow. “See you on Monday, Rat.” They chuckled and walked off.

Peter stepped forward and helped the kid up. “You okay?”

He nodded and quickly backed away, looking down at the ground. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good.”

“What’s your name? Is it really ‘Rat’? ‘Cause I’m guessing it’s not.”

“Oh, no, no. My name’s Stratton, and I guess … yeah - my name’s Shawn Stratton.”

The kid shifted on his feet and readjusted his backpack. Peter looked at him for a moment. _Stratton kind of reminds me of myself, before Spider-Man. Awkward, skinny, harassed by the school jocks … glasses._

“Those kids been messing with you?”

Stratton coughed. “No, uh - I … they’re just - annoying. But I’m working on it.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “If you say so. Well, have a good weekend, Shawn. See you back on Monday.”

The kid nodded nervously. “Sure, yeah. You too, Mr. Parker.” He moved his glasses up on his face and walked off towards the double doors.

_Things never really change in here, do they? Just a cast of characters with new people to fill the roles each year._

He turned to walk back into his classroom when he felt a tap on his shoulder. “Hey, Peter!”

Peter turned around. “Oh, hey Dr. Rinehart.”

The older man chuckled, “Really, Peter. I’ve told you, call me Louis.”

“That’s right, sorry.” Dr. Rinehart was the school counselor. He was kind of an eccentric man, but he had taken up an interest in Peter, and checked up on him once in a while to make sure he was adjusting to the job. Not really needed, Peter thought, but he appreciated the sentiment.

“How was chemistry today?” Peter smiled. “Not bad. I think I’m actually getting through to a few of them. And the energy should pick up next week - we’re starting with some real experiments.”

“Sounds about right. Break out the burners and suddenly you’ve got everyone’s attention.”

“Exactly.”

Louis smiled for a moment before his face fell. “I actually wanted to ask you how you’re doing with the cutbacks. As you know, Midtown’s pretty short on funds these days. I’ve heard they were cutting salaries. Did you get hit?”

Peter sighed. “Yeah, sure did. They probably went to parce mine down first.” He shrugged. “I mean, I’m the newest teacher here. I’m not surprised.”

Dr. Rinehart shook his head in annoyance. “Well, it’s not a great strategy to entice anyone to work here for very long, is it? Will you be alright?”

“Yeah, I should be fine. I’m used to stretching the budget.”

The counselor nodded. “Alright, well I’ll let you go. Let me know if you need me to pressure anyone in the administration for you.”

“Thanks, Louis. I’ll be alright.” Peter backed into his classroom with a wave. “I’ll see you next week.”

“Right - have a good one.” Dr. Rinehart started to turn away.

Suddenly Peter stopped. “Wait, actually - Dr. - I mean, Louis?”

“Yes?”

“I’m not sure this is something you deal with, but I just saw this kid here being harassed by a group of boys. His name’s Shawn Stratton. Maybe you could keep an eye on him?” Peter asked hopefully.

Dr. Rinehart turned back around, “Yes, Stratton. I have seen him in my office a few times. He’s a little troubled, but he’s got some real potential.”

“Okay - that’s good. He could probably use the support.”

Louis nodded. “See you soon, Peter.”

“Yeah, see you.”

After stacking the chairs and grabbing a granola bar from his desk drawer, he shoved his papers in his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

_God, it’s been a long day. Alright, one last stop and then I can get the hell out of here!_

That last stop was one of his least favorite offices in the building. Room 2B. Administration. Home of his favorite uptight --

He pushed the door open with a well meaning smile, “Afternoon, Julie! Your pant suit looks as crisp as ever. Have you been using dryer sheets? They’re a recent discovery of mine --”

“What do you need, Mr. Parker?” Julie barked. She stared up at him from her desk, her short gray bob swishing and her glasses glinting in the fluorescent light as she spun to look him dead in the eye.

Peter stuck his hands in his pockets. “Just following up on those lab supplies I requested. Goggles, gloves, droppers, lab coats … have they been ordered?”

“No they have not.”

Peter blinked. “No they have not?”

Julie’s hands folded on her lap. “The school does not have a budget set aside for silly science supplies. Maybe if you had planned out the semester more carefully we could have helped you, but as it is…”

“But -- I was hired on short notice! I didn’t have the time to plan every detail!”

“ _As it is_ , if you want these things, you’ll have to pay out of pocket.”

He scowled. “Really? This stuff isn’t ‘silly.’ It’s safety equipment. We can’t do any of our experiments without them. Surely --”

The administrative assistant remained unmoved. “As I said, if you want these supplies you will need to provide the money.”

Peter sighed. “Okay, well it’s necessary, so I guess I will. How much do you need from me?”

“Six hundred dollars.”

 _Holy_ \-- “Six _hundred_ dollars?”

Julie just stared levelly at him.

He clenched his jaw. “Right. Okay, if you order this stuff today, I’ll have the money for you on Monday. Does that work?”

She started tapping away at her keyboard. “That’s fine.”

“Okay, great. Thank you so much, Julie, you know I love our talks. And really, if you don’t -- dryer sheets --”

“Goodbye, Mr. Parker.”

Peter closed the door of 2B behind him. _Six hundred dollars?? Where is that going to come from? My lucrative salary? I guess it’s time to break out the camera again…_

* * *

 

The air whistled in his ears as he swung from building to building, the streets a blur far below his feet.

_I’m like the metropolitan Tarzan. Except instead of having gorilla friends, I have money problems!_

He swooped down to land in front of a mugger.

“aAUGH!”

One web blast and the guy was strung up on the brick wall of the next building.

_Alright, so money’s a little tight right now. It doesn’t help that all this webbing is another expense! Wouldn’t it be nice if it just came out of me …_

Cars honked and swerved in the streets. A siren wailed in the distance, and he headed towards it.

_But at least my love life is in order! Oh, wait… MJ’s not speaking to me, and I have no idea how to fix it._

He swung past a window washer. “... Spider-Man! Woah, I…” the voice faded with distance.

_But hey, I’ve always got this._

Spider-Man paused on top of a building and looked for a moment across the city skyline, the sun just beginning to set in the distance.

 _Okay, enough wallowing. Let’s figure out what this siren is heading for. Maybe_ \--

“Whoa!” The spidey sense buzzed in his head, and he dove to the side just in time to dodge a shock of energy that blasted a crater in the building behind him. Stuck to the wall, he turned to see -- “Electro!”

The criminal was running down the street, several duffle bags slung over his shoulder, leaking cash.

Peter took a second to web up his camera before he landed in front of Electro, cutting off his path. “Hey buddy, that wouldn’t be stolen money, now would it? We’ve had this talk before -- stealing is bad.”

“Out of my way, bug!” Electro slammed his chest, and he shot backwards, electricity buzzing through his body.

“Ayee!” He shook out his limbs and webbed the nearest lamppost. “Careful, you could’ve hurt me!” Spider-Man swung through the air and smashed his feet into Electro’s face. The burglar tumbled to the ground, but electricity shocked through him again. His teeth buzzed as he shook the shock away. “Ugh, okay, not my smartest move there.”

Electro clambered to his feet and smiled. “Like the new buzz? I gave my suit a bit of an upgrade. Now I’m unstoppable!”

“Yeah, don’t speak too soon, you’ll just embarrass yourself.” He webbed up his fists and popped one in Electro’s face. The criminal flew backwards into a mailbox, denting the metal. One of the duffle bags came off of his shoulder and cash flew everywhere.

The resulting shock sent Spider-Man flying back just as far. He smacked into the lampost, his head ringing. People were screaming, and police cars were gathering down the street, their lights flashing.

“Come on, get out of here!” He yelled at pedestrians nearby.

Electro got up again, chucking. “My electricity will travel through your webs! You can’t touch me!” Energy crackled around him, and he glowed in the darkening shadows. “You’re not sending me back to prison this time, Spider-Man!”

“Are you saying you never wanted to be in prison? It always seems like you’re asking for it!” _I’ve got to come up with something! I really can’t touch him without shocking myself, and I’m not sure how much more I can take!_

 _Kazzak!_ Electro sent a blast of electricity his way and he dove to the side just in time.

Suddenly he spotted a fire hydrant down the street. _Of course! The water should redirect the electricity back towards him. I just need to get him close enough!_

He ran forwards, dodging another bolt, and grabbed the duffle bag lying on the ground. “Electro, fetch!” He threw the bag down the street.

“Aagh!” Electro yelled in anger and electricity hit Spider-Man in the chest, hurling him into the concrete wall of the building behind him. “You interfering little --”

“Now, now. There could be kids listening!” Peter watched as Electro turned and ran to get the bag of money. Spider-man cocked his head. “What do you know, it worked.”

“Ugh,” his head spun as he stood up. He quickly webbed the building and swung after the green and yellow suited villain. His feet knocked into the fire hydrant and water sprung free.

“Missed me!” said Electro with a smile. His hands rose. “Now, watch me -- aAGH!” Electro started shaking and screaming.

_Just like I thought! The water’s making him electrocute himself!_

“What’s -- happening?” Electro screamed. Spidey dropped down at a safe distance.

“Unstoppable? Was that what you just said about yourself?”

“No! You’re not -- AHH!” The water began to slow, and Electro collapsed to the sidewalk. Peter shot a web to keep him stuck down until the cops could grab him, and pulled himself back up into the sky to swing away.

Electro was furious, and called after him, “Spider-man! This isn’t over! I’ll be back, and you’ll never see me coming!”

“Have fun in prison! I know how much you love it!”

* * *

 

Peter grabbed his camera from where he had webbed it up and sat down on the edge of a building a few blocks over, his legs dangling over the side. His ribs were aching, and he could still hear Electro cursing his name, but he tuned it out to look at what shots he had gotten.

“Alright, not bad,” he shrugged, flipping through the pictures. “Not my best work, but I think good enough for Jolly Jonah. Now, which direction is the Bugle from here…”

He swung towards the Daily Bugle building, the sun setting orange and red behind him, and his mood improving with every _thwip_. Electro was taken care of, and he was about to get paid. _And now that I think about it, I know I can fix things with MJ! Things are looking up!_

“Woo-HOO!” he yelled, his voice caught up in the wind. Truly, there was nothing better. In moments like this, he felt like he could take on the world.

Fortunately there was always reality to bring him slamming back down to the hard, dirty New York City sidewalks.

Back in street clothes, Peter strolled into the Daily Bugle offices. It might have been late on a Friday, but the building was still busy, people milling about and keyboards clacking. And surely -- yes, there she was.

“Betty!” he called out with a wave.

Betty Brandt, Jameson’s ever-present secretary, turned and smiled when she saw who it was. “Peter, hey! Wow, it’s been a while!”

“Oh, come on. Only a few months! Have you already written me off?”

Her head tilted up as he walked closer to her desk. “Life moves fast in the paper business, Pete.”

He nodded. “Don’t I know it. That’s why I’m here so late, actually. I’ve got some shots here of Spider-man that could go in tomorrow’s issue. Is Jonah still in?”

“Yeah. He’s still here.” Betty picked up the phone. “Not in a great mood, I’ll warn you.” -- When is he ever? Peter thought -- “But I’ll let him know you’re here, I’m sure he’d see you.” She called his line. “Mr. Jameson? Peter Parker’s here to see you, he says --”

Jameson’s voice was audible even with the phone to Betty’s ear. “Parker? What does he want!”

“He’s here with pictures of Spider-man, sir. He --”

“Spider-man! Well for God’s sakes send him in! I don’t have all night!”

“Yes, sir.” She gave Peter a small smile. “Go on in, then.”

Peter smiled back before he stepped into the familiar office.

Jameson sat behind his desk, cigar in hand. The two stared at each other for a moment before Jameson bellowed, “Well? Are you gonna show me what you got, or are we gonna just make eyes at each other all night? Don’t waste my time, Parker!”

“Oh, right.” Peter walked quickly up to the desk and passed Jonah the pictures.

He considered them for a moment before exclaiming, “Wait, when did this happen? Was this just now?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, it --”

“This is great! Parker, you’ve just saved the day! This is going on the front page!” His mustache twitched as he scowled. “Honestly, that new photographer we have never gets close enough.”

“Great! Here I was thinking you’d be mad that I hadn’t been in in a while!”

Jonah pounded on the phone. “Get Robbie in here!”

“On it, sir!” Betty called from outside the office.

The bugle publisher shook his head. “Finally this menace will get what he deserves! This is proof right here!”

“Yeah, it’s great -- I’m sure Electro’s already on his way back to Ryker’s.”

Jameson’s eyes snapped to his. “Electro? Is that this other costumed fool? No, I mean Spider-Man! Look at the damage to this building! He’s destroying the city!”

Peter frowned. “Wait, no --”

“Robbie, good, you’re here.” Peter turned to see the Bugle editor Robbie Robertson strolling into the office.

“Oh, hello Peter. Good to see you back.”

“Hey, Robbie, it’s --”

“Yes, yes,” Jameson growled as he shoved the pictures towards Robertson, cigar in his teeth. “Now look at these. I can see the headline now: MASKED MENACE SPIDER-MAN RAMPAGES CITY!”

Robbie examined the photos for a moment. “It looks to me like he’s stopping a bank robbery.”

Peter nodded, “He was.”

“Agh, you people can’t see what’s in front of your face!”

“Jonah, you never see the good that Spider-man does. He just stopped a dangerous thief!” Robbie reasoned.

Jameson scowled. “I’m not saying he never does anything good, I’m saying he causes more problems than he solves! And this is one of them. If he had left this problem to the police, there would have been no property damage!”

“Now, you can’t know that for sure.”

“Do you want me to list other examples? I’m happy to, there’s plenty! Now then, how about this: SPIDEY FIGHT WRECKS CITY BLOCK!”

Robbie raised an eyebrow. “Well, it’s better.”

“Better? It’s great! Run it!”

The bugle editor sighed and shot Peter a knowing look. “Yes, sir. I’ll show you when it’s done.” He turned and left the room.

Peter nodded his head. “Right, uh, so… I’d like to be paid for those.”

Jameson scowled. “God, it’s always about the money.” He shifted back in his chair. “The shots are alright. I’ll give you 200 bucks.”

Peter raised his eyebrows. “200? Really? How long do I have to work here before you stop stiffing me?”

“Stiff you! I would never! Alright, Parker, you get 300.”

 _These should be worth at least 1,000!_ He clenched his teeth. “Fine.”

“Great! Get out.” Smoke curled towards the ceiling from the cigar.

“Good to see you too, Mr. Jameson.”

Betty was wearing a long-suffering smile as Peter approached her again. “300, is it?”

Peter nodded. “Good old generous Jonah. Good to know nothing’s changed around here, I suppose.”

The secretary smiled. “This place is special that way, isn’t it?”

He chuckled, “Truly,” then added, “By the way, who have you had taking superhero photos while I’ve been gone?”

Betty handed him his check. “Do you remember Ned Leeds? He started working here at the beginning of the summer.”

“I don’t -- Oh! He’s blonde, right? Kind of preppy looking?” _He wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, either, if I remember right._

“That’s right,” she nodded. Peter jerked his thumb towards Jameson’s door. “Jonah was saying he never gets good shots of Spidey. Does that mean I don’t have anything to worry about?” he joked.

“Oh, no, he’s a great photographer, really.” Betty rushed to say. “He doesn’t get quite the shots you used to of crime around town, but that’s probably my fault.”

“Your fault?”

The brunette looked momentarily confused, and then smiled suddenly. “Oh, right! You don’t know! Ned and I are engaged!” She showed him the ring.

 _Wow! Alright, then. And what a ring! I would marry Ned for that rock!_ “That’s -- wow, congrats, Betty! That’s great! I didn’t know, I would’ve said something when I came in!”

She blushed. “No, it’s fine. Thanks, Peter. But since we’re together I don’t like him to be too close to the action. Thankfully, he understands. It’s dangerous stuff, I’m sure you know!”

“Ha, yeah, it is,” he replied. _More dangerous than you’ll ever know!_

There was an awkward pause.

And then, from Jameson’s office -- “Brant! Get Parker back in here!”

Peter looked at Betty, who shrugged.

When he got back into the office, Jonah was standing behind his desk, pushing papers to the side. “Good! You’re still here!”

“What --”

Jameson cut him off. “What do you know about high society?"

“I -- well … uh --”

“Ah, don’t answer that. Just heard my high society photographer got hit in the head with a polo ball! You’re all I got. Tomorrow there’s a big party for an American hero!” he smiled. “My son, the astronaut.”

 _Alright, well I shouldn’t pass up another paycheck._ “Uh, yeah, I can be there. No problem! Where is it?”

“The planetarium. Tomorrow night. Eight o’clock.” And with a wave of his hand, “There’s the door!”

* * *

 

It was dark by the time Peter was back down on the street in front of the Bugle, the check for $300 in his back pocket. Cars honked in the distance.

A quick change in the closest alley, with his stuff in the bag on his shoulder, and he was swinging off again.

_300 dollars! God, Jameson gets on my nerves. That doesn’t even cover what I need for the supplies -- and rent! God damn it I forgot about rent._

He ran along the side of a building before jumping off and pulling himself forwards.

_It’s nice to see everyone from the Bugle again, though. I didn’t even realize I missed them -- even Jolly Jonah._

He spun to grab onto a flag pole and swung himself around a corner.

_Things are just so different now that I’m teaching at Midtown. Is it juvenile to say that I’d just like some friends there?_

He approached the Queensboro bridge, the lights of the city reflected in the water of the east river.

 _Besides Dr. Rinehart, none of the teachers seem to think I’m worth the time._ _They probably think I’ll be gone when the semester’s up. And honestly, they might be right. I_ \--

A loud crash interrupted his thoughts.

“Really? Right in the middle of my soliloquy?”

Peter landed on the arch of the bridge and looked down to see what the cause of the noise was. “What was that?”

What he saw was an 18 wheeler that had crashed through the barrier and currently had nine wheels over the edge of the bridge.

“Okay, not good!” _Thwipp!_ He shot a string of web onto the cab of the truck and gripped his feet fast to the metal of the arch. “This had better work!”

He could hear the screams of the truck driver. The truck groaned and screeched, the metal bending over the side.

“Agh!” He groaned, his limbs straining. _This thing is heavier than it looks! Come on, Pete, PULL!_

He heaved with all his might, his back wrenching with the effort. “Come ON!”

Slowly, the front wheels made their way back onto the bridge.

_It’s not over yet, looks like this thing could still fall at any second. I gotta get the driver out!_

He dropped down quickly in front of the truck.

“HELP!” a voice came from the cab.

“Just stay calm in there, buddy!” Peter yelled as he strung webs all around the truck, securing it to the bridge. _Alright, spider sense is calming down a bit. Should be stable. Now, to get this man out._

He yanked the door off the truck and flung it down towards the river. “You all right, sir?” He didn’t wait for more than a nod before he grabbed the man under his arms and pulled him out.

One short swing and they were standing on solid bridge. “Here’s your stop!” he released the driver.

“Oh my god, thank you!” The man took a fumbling step in relief.

Spider-Man put out his arm to steady him. “Careful now, don’t want to have to catch you again!”

“Ha -- holy shit -- thanks, Spider-man.”

He turned away and webbed the bridge support. “Drive safe!”

_God, I’m beat! I need to eat something._

* * *

 

The rest of the trip home was thankfully uneventful, only resulting in the appearance of a few more stars.

Peter stuck to the brick of his building and pulled his window open. He crawled inside and landed on his rug before he pulled off the mask.

His empty apartment stared back at him.

The place was a mess. Bed sheets off the mattress, cans on the floor, and papers and pictures strewn everywhere.

God, he missed MJ.

 _She said she wanted time to think. Surely I’ve given her enough?_ He collapsed onto his couch, his aching muscles relaxing. _But what has she been thinking? That we’re worth it? Or that… we’re not._

He rubbed his hand over his face and looked over at a painting of a fish on the wall. “I should call her. Right?” The fish didn’t reply. “Right? Yeah, I should call her.” He pulled out his phone. “I’m calling her. I’m --”

“ _You’ve reached Mary-Jane Watson. I can’t come to the_ \--”

“Shit!” he leaned forwards.

“ _Phone right now. Leave me a message and I’ll call back!_ ”

_Beep!_

“Oh, I -- hi MJ! It’s me. Peter! … Parker, of course. Do you know any other Peters?” _Shut up!_ “Sorry. I -- I hope you’re okay. I mean, the apartment’s messy without you. No, that’s not -- MJ, I miss you. I’d love to talk, if you can. Please call me back? … Bye.” He hung up.

“AGH!” he almost threw his phone at the wall, then suddenly realized the last thing he needed was a shattered phone. “Why am I like this!?”

He tossed his phone down on the couch next to him and went to go put on a pair of sweats.

“I’m so stupid,” he muttered as he pulled off his shirt. “‘The apartment’s messy without you’? God, what is wrong with me? She’s probably hanging out with friends, or at a party, or -- or anywhere else, doing normal things, with normal people, instead of people who can lift 18-wheelers, and put her in constant danger!”

Peter padded over to the kitchen. "If I could just talk to her..." He shook his head as he pulled out a beer and a takeout box of thai food from the fridge. He considered heating it up, but when his stomach growled he shrugged, plopped back down on the couch, and started eating it cold. The remote was nowhere to be found, but a blast of webbing turned on the tv just as well.

Twenty minutes later the takeout box was empty and his cell phone was ringing.

He picked it up quickly. _MJ? No. Aunt May._ “Hi, Aunt May!”

His aunt’s cheerful voice filled his ear. “Hello, Peter. How are you, dear? How was your day?”

He picked at a thread on his sweatpants. “Uh, it was fine. Nothing too exciting to report.”

“How was your class?” he heard clanging in the background of her voice, like pots banging together.

“Well, pretty good, really. I got some kids participating.” He ran his hand through his hair. “You know what, though -- there’s this whole deal with the supplies I’ll need for labs. Administration is making me cover the cost! For necessary supplies!”

“Really? That doesn’t sound fair. Shouldn’t the school have a budget for that?”

“Uh, well --” _how do I put this without worrying her? God, I shouldn’t have brought this up._ “I think it’s only because I signed on so late. I didn’t have a chance to give them my entire syllabus upfront. It’s annoying, but it should be alright.”

He saw something white get shoved under his door, and stood up to check it out. “Anyway, how’re you doing?”

“I had a great day. I went over to Anna Watson’s house and played bridge, which was nice. Anna has some fun friends, they …”

It was an envelope. He picked it up. The words “PAST DUE” were stamped in red on one side. _Shit._

“... and then I came back home and made some pumpkin bread.”

There was a pause, like May was waiting for a response, and he jumped in. “Oh, that sounds fun. And I love it when you make pumpkin bread, that stuff is delicious.” He took another look at the envelope before dropping onto the kitchen counter with a small sigh.

“Is everything okay, Peter?”

He started pacing around the apartment as he spoke. “What? Yeah, everything’s fine, Aunt May. Don’t worry. It’s just been a long day.”

“Alright. You know it’s my job to worry about you, though.”

“Really, I’m fine.”

There was a pause. “Why don’t you come by for dinner tomorrow?”

He scratched his nose. “Uh, sorry. I can’t do tomorrow night, I’m” -- _probably shouldn’t say it’s work_ \-- “going to a party.”

“Okay, how about Sunday?”

“Yeah, Sunday night dinner. Sounds great! I’ll be there.”

“Will you bring Mary Jane?”

 _Oh, geez._ “Er -- I don’t know. She’s -- she’s been really busy. But I’ll let you know, okay?”

“Sounds good, dear.”

“Okay, ‘night, May. See you on Sunday!”

“Good night, Peter.”

He hung up the phone and put it down on the counter next to the envelope.

“Well, this is fun, isn’t it. Everything is totally under control.” He groaned, and pulled at his hair. “Okay, I need to make a list." he clapped his hands together. "Lists help people, don’t they?”

Peter grabbed a notepad from under the couch and a pen from the floor next to the TV. He paced around the room, writing on the pad. “Okay. Item number one: _Pay Rent!_ And number two: _PAY RENT YOU DUMB ASS!"_  he started walking up the wall. “Next: _Jameson Ball at Planetarium, 8 PM._ Uh, what else. Oh - _Pay for school supplies ($600)._ And: _Dinner at May’s on Sunday._ ”

Now he was standing on the ceiling. He sighed, and wrote: “ _Call MJ again._ And _stop being such as mess._ ”

He jumped back down to the floor. The pen he threw back down next to the TV, while he pulled the page out from the notepad.

He grabbed a thumbtack and stuck it to his front door. Then he stuck the envelope up there too.

“Nice. Now I just have to actually do the things. That’s the easy part, right?”

Yeah, right.


	2. Add It to the List

UNDISCLOSED LOCATION, Saturday, 9:00 AM:

Wind rustled the trees outside. He could hear it whistling through the window.

“Good morning, Cletus. Good to see you again. How are you feeling?”

Light caught in beads of water on the window. “Uh, alright, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“It’s all feeling… a lot, again.”

“Tell me what you mean by that.”

He watched the doctor shift his notes in his lap. “I see people, and they don’t understand. They don’t know what I know.”

“And what is it that you know?”

“That their lives are meaningless. That their actions don’t mean anything.” The water droplets slid down the window.

The doctor paused. “Yes. Now, do you remember what I told you the last time we met?”

He took a breath. “Yes.”

“What did I say?”

“That I should help people understand.”

A quick smile on the doctor’s face. “Good. Now, were you able to do what I suggested? To help people understand?”

The sun shone down on the carpet, but too far away to reach him. “Yes.”

“Will you do it again?”

“Yes.”

* * *

 

APARTMENT OF PETER PARKER, Saturday, 10:47 AM:

Peter woke up to the sun streaming through his window and onto his face.

He groaned, and checked his watch. _Wow, okay, better get up._ He rubbed his eyes with his fingers, slowly sat up, and looked at his phone, vainly hoping that there would be a text from MJ. No such luck.

_Yikes, I don’t usually sleep this late. Okay, what do I need to do today?_ He looked at his list on the door. _Jameson’s ball tonight. But until then --_

He grabbed an orange juice carton from the fridge and took a sip. The rest of the fridge was practically empty. Certainly no breakfast foods. “Geez, this is pathetic.”

He suddenly realized that he smelled terrible, and went to take a shower.

When he got out, he pulled out some supplies, grabbed his web-shooters, and sat down at his table. The red light was blinking, which meant he needed a refill. Thankfully, he was stocked up on ingredients at the moment, and it didn’t take long to make a new batch.

He was so concentrated that when his phone buzzed with a text his hand slipped and web fluid exploded into his face.

“Ack!” he groaned. “I _just_ showered! Who is -- oh, of course! Thanks a lot, Johnny.”

JOHNNY S: _come grab lunch with me! I’m headed to that falafel place by your apartment_

He sighed and stood up to grab the solvent from one of the drawers in his kitchen. A couple sprays to the face and the web fluid dissolved. He scrubbed it off with a towel. _Ha. Maybe I could sell this as a new kind of face mask._

After washing the solvent off of his hands, he texted back: _sure. Be there in ten_

He always liked seeing Johnny. It was nice having a friend who was in a similar situation to him, and who knew his secret. Besides Mary Jane, he was the only person who knew he was Spider-Man. It was because they were so similar that Peter had hated him when they first met. Well, that and Johnny had been ten times more self obsessed at that age (and he was still pretty self obsessed). But now he was one of Peter’s closest friends. He couldn’t say that about many people. Originally, it had been him, Mary Jane, Harry, and… and Gwen. And now, with Gwen gone and Harry off in Asia… well, it was nice to have another friendly face. Even if that face was punchable.

He filled his web-shooters up with the fluid and cleaned up the mess he had made on the table. Then he grabbed his backpack and threw it over his shoulder before heading out of his apartment.

His footsteps in the hall drew attention. A head popped out of a door ten feet down.

_It’s Harold! Ah! Keep moving, keep moving!_ He scurried down the stairs to avoid being seen, the voice of his landlord following after him.

“Parker! Is that you? I need rent! I’m warning you, if you don’t --” Harold’s voice was cut off as Peter stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

He sighed and stepped down onto the sidewalk. _Just a few more days! I need my next paycheck from Midtown._

Some guy knocked his shoulder as he walked past. “Watch it, kid!” the man yelled back at him.

Peter started walking down the block. _Geez, it’s like the whole city’s against me._ He looked up at the sky. _But at least it’s sunny out._ It was a pretty nice day, actually. There was barely a cloud in the sky, and a light wind was blowing. The leaves on the trees were just beginning to turn, so this was probably one of the last warm days before fall set in. He took a deep breath. _Better soak it in while it lasts._

A few minutes later he approached Mamoun’s and saw a familiar figure leaning against the building, looking into his phone.

Johnny Storm looked up as he got close. “Hey, Pete!”

He waved. “Hey, man. You hungry?”

“Oh my God, I’m starving,” Johnny groaned. “Sue had everyone over for dinner last night and tried to make chili again.”

Peter cringed. “Let me guess. Flavorless?”

The blonde gagged. “I don’t know what she does to those ingredients, but it tasted like sand.” The two of them turned into the shop and got in line. “I tried my best but I couldn’t stomach more than a couple bites.”

“When I was there I just covered the whole thing in cheese. It wasn’t _so_ bad.”

Johnny looked at him gravely. “There was no cheese. No sour cream.” He spoke as if he was telling Peter a loved one had just died.

Peter laughed. “Oh, God. That’s rough.”

“Tell me about it. Even Reed was having a hard time saying anything nice about it.”

“Ha! I love seeing him try to lie to Sue about that kinda stuff.” They moved forward in the line.

“I know! I’m not sure how he gets away with it.”

They continued to chat as they moved towards the front, then took a moment to order before taking their food to a booth in the back. After settling in, Johnny took a bite and closed his eyes. “God, I love this place.”

“Get a room,” Peter quipped.  

Johnny grinned and chewed with his mouth open, then grabbed his drink and took a sip. “Anyway, what’ve you been up to?”

Peter swallowed his bite and shrugged. “You know. The usual. Well, I guess a little worse than usual. For me, anyway. Spidey’s fine.”

Johnny picked lettuce out of his teeth. “You get fired again?”

Peter flicked a piece of onion at him. “No, asshole!” Johnny grinned. “First of all, that was years ago, and second, I told you, I wasn’t fired from that job, I left.”

“Oh, so, when that scientist told you that you were ‘lazy, clumsy, and perpetually late,’ that was out of friendship?”

He smiled despite himself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I definitely chose to be forcibly removed from the building.”

Johnny shrugged. “They’re brutal, man. You blow up one lab and suddenly they don’t want you around anymore. It’s happened to the best of us.”  

Peter laughed. “It’s happened to you more than the rest of us. But no, I wasn’t fired. I’m just short on cash this month, and the school administration is not helping me out there.”

“Oh yeah! How are the little brats?”

“The kids are fine. I mean, it’s like talking to a brick wall most of the time, but they’re fine.” He chewed on a piece of falafel. “The school, though. They’re delaying my salary. And making me pay for supplies.”

“That seems… illegal? Shouldn’t that be illegal? I mean, I’ve never been a teacher, but…”

“Johnny, you’ve never even had a real job.” Peter shrugged. “The city’s had budget cutbacks, I guess, and Midtown didn’t fare so well. But I’ll make it work. I’m picking up some side jobs at the Bugle.”

“Ooh, Peter Parker the photography nerd strikes again.”

“Shut up. But yeah.” He looked at the TV in the corner, where two blonde news anchors were smiling at each other. “Also, MJ isn’t talking to me.”

Johnny frowned. “What? Why? What happened?”

He sighed. “I’m not really sure, but I think it might have something to do with the fact that I’m a magnet for crazy criminals and murderers.” He shrugged. “What happened was I got back from patrol last week and I was kinda beat up. Also, I missed dinner with her aunt.”

Johnny cringed. “Yikes, man.”

“Yeah. We had this huge fight, and she said she wanted some time to think. I haven’t heard from her since.”

“Where is she staying? Aren’t you guys living together?”

Peter shook his head. “No. I mean, we’ve practically been living together, but she still has her own place. I’ve been trying to… but maybe she knew this would happen.”

Johnny took a sip of water. “At least Mary Jane is good enough to step back. My girlfriend just blows up on me constantly.”

“What? Alicia’s so calm!”

“No, It’s Frankie now.”

“Oh, right. Right. Wait, who?”

He jabbed his fork at Peter. “You know, she’s afraid of fire!”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “You do realize fire normally burns people?”

Johnny rolled his eyes. “I’m not totally dense. But, like -- she won’t even let me light candles.”

“Huh. So she argues with you about candles?”

“Just… she’s just... “ Johnny scratched his nose. “She’s a little uptight. And she has mood swings.”

“Well, if you want I’ll come over and give you a second opinion.” He took another bite, and added with his mouth full, “Is there anything you _like_ about this girl?”

“Yeah, sure.” He smiled. “She’s really hot.”

Peter just rolled his eyes.

“I’m _kidding_! Well, I’m not kidding. She’s extremely hot. But she also seems like a good person, so far.”

“Besides the candle thing.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see if I can work through that one.” Johnny wiped his face with a napkin. “You know, I --” he stopped and frowned. Peter had gone stock still.  “What’s wrong?”

Peter’s spidey sense was going haywire, ringing in his ears. “I don’t…” He looked around, trying to find the source. Then, on the TV -- “What is that? Torch, look.” He pointed to the screen, which was now showing Times Square. Except it did _not_ look right. He stood up out of the booth, Johnny following his movements.

“Am I wrong or is Times Square not usually filled with fog and weird giant rats?”

Peter paused and raised his eyebrows. “Honestly, uh…” he trailed off as there was more movement on the screen.

“What the hell…?” Johnny muttered.

“Oh my God. They have a hostage. I gotta go.” Peter raced out the door.

Johnny followed him only after stopping to stuff as much food as he could in his mouth. “I’m comin’, wait up!” he yelled after Peter, his voice muffled by falafel.

* * *

 

Times Square was a hellscape. Literally, it looked like hell. Hot fog was circling through the air, fires were scattered around, and best of all, giant rat-like creatures were skittering around, tearing into buildings and chasing civilians. Above everything, a purple caped man with a round helmet hovered, a screaming woman in his arms.

The police was there, desperately trying to shoot down the rats and clear people from the area before setting up a cordon on the street. People were scattering, and screams and yells filled the air. A policeman with a megaphone was trying to speak to the hovering man.

Peter and Johnny tore on to the scene.

Spider-Man swung in just in time to kick one of the rats away from crying child. “Rodents of unusual size? I thought they didn’t exist!” He turned and punched another one in the face.

The Human Torch flew in, his fire lighting up the fog. “Eat flame, rat freaks!”

Peter flipped and landed next to the policeman with the megaphone. “Talk to me. What’s this weirdo want? And what’s with the helmet?” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Johnny chasing down more of the rats.

The officer shook his head desperately. “He’s threatening to kill her unless --” his eyes widened and he backed up quickly.

“What?” Peter called after him. “Unless what?”

A booming, distorted voice filled his ears, and the fog thickened to a soup. “Spider-Man, I’m glad you’re finally here.” The sound seemed to be coming from everywhere.

_I can’t see a thing!_ “Torch!” he yelled out. There was no response.

“Now the show can really begin! _”_ The man with the purple cape appeared out of the fog, the woman still in his arms.

_Whoa! My spidey sense didn’t pick them up in there! This fog must be dampening it… not good._ He looked around for something to swing up on to, but it was hard to make anything out besides this green and purple flying guy. “Hey there!” he called out. “Did Phish design your wardrobe, because that is… a fishbowl.” He cringed. “Actually, I vote to strike that one from the record. That’s not a good representation of my work.”

He was ignored. “Spider-Man, New York’s guardian angel. But who _is_ he, really?”

Peter cocked his head. “Better question is: who are _you,_ besides being the pied piper’s deranged cousin?”

“My name is… _Mysterio!”_ Fire erupted around him, and the fog swirled.

“Please, _help me!”_ screamed the woman.

_Yikes. I gotta get this lady safe!_ “Okay, drama queen,” he said to ‘Mysterio,’ “That’s wonderful. Great choice in your evil name. Now, why don’t we just talk, the two of us? You can leave the girl out of it! And the rats, too, while you’re at it.” The fog moved enough for him to see a sign close to him. He webbed up and perched on the top of it.

_“_ The rats are my protection. The girl is here as insurance. Insurance that you won’t come close to me, and that you’ll do as I say. _”_ he squeezed, and she screamed louder.

_Just gotta get him to talk, and I’ll get as close as I can. Hopefully I can get close enough…_ Peter put up his hands placatingly. “Alright, stop it! Just tell me what you want!” The fog was lifting a little, and he could see fires in the distance, but he couldn’t tell if one of them was Johnny.

“What I want is to see you unmasked… and then to pick your brain.”

“Sorry, did you mean that literally, or figuratively?” He swung to a signpost just a little closer.  

“You are a character the likes I’ve never seen.”

“Aw, you got a crush on me? You can’t see, but I’m blushing.”

“You must be understood, your brain dissected, studied -- and then destroyed.”

“Ooh, now I might have to pull my safe word out for that.” He jumped forwards again, getting ever closer. “I’m kind of fond of my brai -- Agh!”

Suddenly he was blindsided and knocked off of the signpost and onto the road. His breath was knocked out of him as he hit the pavement. A blur of grey fur and yellow teeth filled his vision, and claws swiped at his legs. It was one of the rats! With his spider-sense muted, he hadn’t seen it coming. It climbed on top of him, and teeth bit into his shoulder. He cried out and pushed the thing off of him. It scurried backwards, then went in for another bite. He kicked it once in the side before simply webbing it to the sidewalk. It squirmed, trying desperately to break free.

He stood next to the creature, panting, and looked up at Mysterio.

Mysterio gazed down at him, one hand high in the air. “I warned you not to come close! Now, reveal yourself, or she dies!”

_Where the hell is Johnny? If only he could swoop in -- but no, I don’t think either of us could move fast enough if this weirdo decides to snap that woman’s neck!_ He backed away slowly, then webbed up onto the post he had first been on. “Easy, Houdini. No need to be rash, here. Sure, you’re going to jail, but no one’s died yet. This is just a little rodent infestation! You don’t have to make it anything more.”

_“_ Oh, but I do!” Mysterio bellowed. “I _will_ uncover your secrets!”

“Please, _help me!”_ the woman screamed again.

_Wait a second._ Peter paused, gears turning in his mind. _That was weird… Not the evil plan, but that lady screaming -- that sounded just like what she said earlier!  -- But no, that doesn’t make sense! What is this?_ The fog was clearing even more, and he could see a bright light moving around the distance to his right. _Johnny! He must still be fighting off the rats. I’m still on my own here._

He started talking, trying to distract Mysterio, but never taking his eyes off the woman he was holding. “You know what they say about secret identities, buddy.” _I just have to see…_ He continued: “I don’t wear this mask because it looks nice! I mean, it does, but -- I don’t just go sharing my secrets to whoever wants to know. That kind of defeats the purpose!” _Yes. I think I’m right. She’s repeating her movements!_  

He took a deep breath. _God, I better be right about this._

He launched himself at Mysterio.

“What are you doing?! Stay back!” Mysterio stepped backwards, almost like he was standing on ground instead of floating.

Spider-Man’s foot landed right on his fish-bowl of a face. The glass cracked. Mysterio fell backwards and Peter landed on top of him. He turned just in time to see the woman go up in smoke. She had never been real.

_Oh, thank God._

“I see you are not so easily tricked,” Mysterio said from below him, his tone menacing. “Don’t worry, next time I won’t make the same mistake.”

“Next time? I don’t think you understand the situation here, buddy. You’re not going anywhere.” Peter pressed his foot down on the man’s green suited chest.

“You shall see soon that this was all just practice. And you won’t like what comes next. See you soon, Spider-Man.” Then from his mouth came a series of strange words -- was it latin?

Peter blinked, and suddenly he was falling through smoke, pavement rushing towards his face. Instinctively, he rolled, so his shoulder and back hit the street and not his face. He crashed into a storefront, the glass shattering down on him.

He pushed himself to his feet, looking around wildly. Mysterio was gone. And so was everything else -- the rats, the fog, the fire. “What the --”

A burst of flame filled his vision, and Johnny touched down in front of him. “Spider-Man! What the hell just happened? Everything just disappeared!”

Peter just looked at him. “I have no idea. I’ve seen weird, and that was _weird._ ”

They took a few steps forwards, still looking around the scene. The police were looking their way, yelling between each other, and seemingly just as confused.

“Is anyone hurt over there?” Peter asked.

Johnny shook his head. “Nothing serious.” He gave a crooked smile. “I was given’ those giant rats what for.”

“Good. Let’s get out of here -- before they try to pin this on me,” Peter said. He webbed up the nearest building and pulled himself off the ground.

* * *

 

They stopped on the roof of a building a few blocks over. Sirens were still going towards Times Square.

Johnny turned to him. “Well, that was one for the books. I mean, giant rats? And how did everything just go up in smoke like that? Do you think that was magic?”

He shook his head. “I’m not sure. I don’t think so. But this guy -- he calls himself Mysterio -- seems to want us to think that.”

“Okay. Well then --” Johnny frowned. “Wait, what happened to the hostage?”

Spider-Man’s eyes widened. “No, Torch, that’s it -- she wasn’t real!”

“What?”

He raised his arms up in a shrug. “I have no idea. I was trying to figure out how to get this woman out of there, and I realized she kept repeating the same lines. She was on a loop!” He gestured towards Times Square. “Then, when I attacked Mysterio, she went up in smoke with everything else.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow. “That is weird.”

“Tell me about it.”

“But the rats -- they were definitely _there_. They were real.”

Peter considered that. “Well, I think everything was _there_ . But I don’t think anything was _real._ ”

Johnny looked at him for a moment. “Right...”

“No, what I mean is,” he added quickly, “That woman was there, and was a physical thing, until she went up in smoke. We weren’t hallucinating, or anything.”

A plane passed by overhead, leaving a trail in the cloudless sky.

Johnny scratched his forehead. “Uh, I’m still lost, but whatever. Did he say what the heck he wanted?”

Peter rubbed a hand on the back of his head. “He just wanted me to unmask myself. And he said he wanted to dissect my brain.”

Johnny made a face. “Ew.”

He shrugged. “Nothing too original, really. I don’t know why he had to have a light show to go along with it, though.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with a light show?” Johnny smiled, holding out a ball of flame in the palm of his hand.

Peter rolled his eyes. “You are.” He walked towards the edge of the building. “At least I’ll know not to trust what I see around him when he shows up again.”

Johnny followed him. “Shows up again? You mean you didn’t pound him into smoke?”

“Nope. He disappeared with everything else, after what was meant to be an ominous warning.”

“Oh yeah -- a classic move.” Johnny looked down and brushed off his chest. “Well, I for one need a shower. I’m covered in rat dust. Wait, is it in my hair?” He ran his fingers through his blonde strands.

Spider-Man cocked his head. “I wonder what would happen if you ever woke up bald?”

Johnny glared at him. “You wouldn’t dare. And if you did, I’d burn your hair right off your head to match.”

He grinned. “Touchy, aren’t ya, Flamebrain?”

“I’ve got my eye on you.”

“You never know, I --” he was cut off by a noise from Johnny’s pocket.

_Beep! Be-Beep!_

Johnny pulled out his phone and looked at the message. His eyebrows raised. “Wow.” He looked up at Peter. “Sorry to eat and run, Spidey, but I gotta go.”

“What’s up?”

Johnny shrugged. “Apparently there’s a plot to blow up Pluto.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“ _Flame on!_ ” He burst into flame and rose off of the roof. “Catch ya later, webhead!”

Peter watched him fly off towards the Baxter building, a trail of fire behind him. _Well, okay then._ “Don’t get lost in Uranus on the way there!”

* * *

 

HAYDEN PLANETARIUM, Saturday, 8:47 PM:

The planetarium was bustling with people, the air filled with the sound of people talking over one another. A band was playing jazz music on stage.

Peter wandered around the event, occasionally taking photos. He had dug out his one nice suit for this, and he had forgotten how itchy it was. He pulled at his collar. The tie around his neck was just a little too tight.

A waiter passed by him, holding a tray of what looked like beef skewers. He reached out to grab one, but the last one was snagged before he could reach it. The waiter moved on, and he was left with his hand hanging awkwardly in the air. He coughed and scratched his head quickly before moving away.

“Excuse me, would you like a photo?” he asked an attractive looking couple. They smiled well-meaningly and paused long enough for the camera to flash before moving on their way.

Peter sighed. _This is gonna be a long night._

“Welcome, everyone!” A voice came over the microphone, and the band stopped playing. Conversation petered out, and everyone turned towards the stage, where an older woman wearing a long dark dress stood behind a podium. It was Mrs. Jameson. “Welcome, and good evening.” She gave a wide smile. “I’m glad to see so many of our friends here tonight. Thank you all for coming.”

Peter snapped a picture.

“I would also like to thank the planetarium for holding this event. It means so much to us. Thank you.” She took a deep breath. “We’re here to honor a brave man. A soldier, an astronaut, and someone who has always inspired me to be better person. I couldn’t be more proud of my son, Captain John Jameson!” She gestured towards the stairs, and down walked the man himself, a beautiful woman by his side.

The room erupted in applause. Peter got the photo.

“Have a wonderful evening everyone!”

With that, the band started up again and people resumed their conversations, drinking, and laughing. Peter felt a headache coming on. _I need a drink._

Then he felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned around. “Dr. Rinehart!”

The psychiatrist nodded. “Hello, Peter. And how many times must I ask you --”

“Louis, right, sorry.” He smiled. “What are you doing here?”

Dr. Rinehart raised his eyebrows. “Should I not be here?”

“I mean -- I don’t --”

“I’m only kidding.” He quirked a smile. “I know a few of the scientists on staff here through my work.”

Peter was confused. “Through Midtown?”

Louis chuckled. “I don’t only work at a high school, Peter. Didn’t you know that?”

“Uh, no, I never realized,” he responded, shaking his head.

“Well, I work at Midtown on the same days you do, so it’s no wonder you never noticed. But other days I pursue more… lucrative work.” He chuckled. “As you know, working at Midtown High doesn’t have the best salary. I’m currently doing some work for the state, but I’ve done a number of other jobs over the years.” He took a sip of the drink in his hand.

Peter nodded. “That’s great. I can’t believe I never realized.”

Dr. Rinehart shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Anyway, who are you here with?”

Peter held up his camera. “I’m actually here working,” he said with a wry grin. “I know J. Jonah Jameson from working at the Bugle, and he asked me to take pictures.”

“That’s right!” Louis exclaimed. “You used to take pictures of Spider-Man for them, didn’t you?”

He nodded. “Sure did.”

Dr. Rinehart gestured behind him. “I saw a good picture of Spider-Man on the front page today. Does that mean you’re taking photos again?”

Peter shrugged, a little embarrassed. “I guess. I need some extra income, so…”

The doctor smiled. “That’s great news!”

“Well, I wish I didn’t have to, but it’s nice that I can, I suppose.”

He knit his brows. “Were you in Times Square today?”

“Uh -- No. No, I wasn’t --” he took a breath, “but that was crazy. I saw it on the news. I’m just glad no one was hurt.”

“Yes, thank goodness.” Louis frowned. “Say, all those years taking photos -- surely you’ve talked to Spider-Man once or twice.”

“Yeah, I have,” Peter replied.

“What do you think about him?”

“Uh, well, I think he’s just out there to help people. He seems like a good guy.”

Louis nodded and paused in consideration before adding, “Well, don’t let chasing down a photo distract you from your day job.”

Peter chuckled. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t --”

“Parker!” J. Jonah Jameson appeared by his side and grabbed his arm. “What are you deaf? I called you three times!” He started pulling him away, and Peter waved goodbye to Dr. Rinehart sheepishly. “I’m not paying you to stand around and chat!” He pushed him into the crowd. “Here, take a photo of me and the director!”

They posed, and Peter’s camera flashed.

“Over here, me and the mayor!”

_Click._

“Me and -- hey, John, get over here! Get in a picture with me and your mother!”

Captain Jameson walked over and posed with his parents in front of the stage. When Peter lowered the camera, he squinted, and smiled. “Peter Parker? Is that you?” he walked forwards and shook Peter’s hand. “Still working for my father?” John asked.

Peter nodded. “Hey, John. Yeah, seems like I am.” He gestured to the crowd. “Congrats on the party. And the astronaut thing.”

John laughed. “I’m not sure why I needed a party, but it’s good fun.” He turned away when someone called his name. “Nice to see you, Peter. Have a good night!” He waved and walked off into the crowd.

For the next hour or so Peter followed Jameson around, taking pictures of him with various people. Eventually he was able to break away by saying he was going to the bathroom, and split off into the crowd. He was halfway across the room when he saw orange out of the corner of his eye.

_Is that --_

He spun around and locked eyes with Mary Jane.

She was standing by the wall in front of a gossamer curtain, holding a martini in her hand. She looked beautiful. She wore a deep blue dress, her long hair falling in waves around her shoulders.

It took only a few steps to make it to her side. His eyes were wide. “MJ!”

She looked him over. “Hi, Peter.”

He stared into her eyes for a moment before shaking himself out of it. His heart was fluttering in his chest. “Uh -- how are you?”

She raised her eyebrows, amused. “I’m… fine.” She glanced at his camera. “Are you here for the Bugle?”

“Yeah, just needed an extra paycheck.” He looked at her earnestly. “It’s so good to see you! Listen, MJ, I just want --”

“I got your message.”

He cringed. “Ah, yeah… that was awkward, wasn’t it?”

She quirked a smile, “Yeah, it was. But it was also kinda cute.”

“Does that mean -- are you still mad at me?” Peter asked.

Mary Jane sighed. “I don’t know. Yes.” She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and looked him in the eye, her gaze as piercing as ever. “Peter, you know I love you.”

Peter’s heart sang. “I love you too. So much. And I’m sorry, for everything --”

She continued, “But I don’t know if I can be with you. At least until something changes.”

His chest turned to ice. “Oh.” He looked down at the ground. “I understand.” _It makes sense. Why would she want to be anywhere near me? I can never be there for her. Death and destruction follow me everywhere._

She just looked at him. “I don’t know if you do.” She glanced over his shoulder, then back at him. “Look, this isn’t the place to have this conversation, okay?”

“Yeah.” He bit his lip, and adjusted his camera on its strap. “Why -- why don’t we grab dinner one night? And… talk it all over?” he asked hopefully.

Mary Jane nodded, “Alright.”

Peter gave her a little smile. “Alright. I’ll -- I’ll text you.”

“See ya later, Tiger.” She brushed his arm as she walked past him and back to her friends. Peter turned and watched until she was lost in the crowd.

_Okay._ He breathed. He felt a weird combination of relief and anxiety. _Okay. It’s not all over. At least she’s talking to me. I can fix this. We just need to talk things through. I’ll show her --_

“Parker!” Jonah’s gruff voice cut through his thoughts.

Peter closed his eyes and made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat.

“Did you hear me? Parker! Quit daydreaming and get back over here!”

He took a deep breath, pulled his camera back into his hands, and walked back into the crowd.

* * *

APARTMENT OF PETER PARKER, Saturday, 11:38 PM:

Several hours later, Peter was back in his apartment, putting away his suit. _What a night. I’ll think twice the next time Jameson needs a high society photographer. But at least I have a good check to show for it. It won’t cover everything, but it’ll do._

He placed his camera on the kitchen counter and moved over to the fridge. _That party had food everywhere, and somehow I didn’t get a bite of it! How did that happen?_ He opened his fridge. “Oh no.” The empty shelves stared back at him, and he groaned. “Perfect. Just perfect.”

He slammed the door shut and scratched his head. “Why didn’t I get food? I am so stupid! Ah, I’ll just pick something up while I’m out.”

He was about to leave his apartment and start his patrol when his phone rang. He looked at the ID.

_Detective DeWolff! She almost never calls. Wonder what this is about?_ He pulled his mask on and answered: “Hello, Wolfy! Your friendly neighborhood Spidey here! May I take your order? I will warn you the ice cream machine is broken again.”

“Cut the crap, Spider-Man. This is serious. You know I don’t call for just anything.”

“Righty-o, Captain Detective, sir -- ma’am. What’s the call about? You sound gloomy.”

“I need your help down here. This is something you should know about. We’ve just found two people murdered.”

“Oh.”

“And they’re not the first.”

Peter frowned. “Are you saying…”

“Yeah,” DeWolff took a deep breath. “I think we’ve got a serial killer on our hands.”

“I’ll be right there. Where is it?”

She gave him the address.

_Great. Let’s just add this one to the list._ He pulled himself out of his window.

He swung through the streets and quickly ended up where DeWolff had said they were -- a warehouse on the docks. He crawled in through a window on the roof and across the underside of the ceiling. He stuck to the shadows for a moment and looked around. Below, a few police officers were walking around. Jean DeWolff and another detective were examining the scene. One was watching the door, and a few more were outside interviewing civilians. The blue and red lights from the cop cars spilled in through the doors.

He spotted the bodies. One, a bearded and muscular man, was laid out in the center of the floor. Then, in the corner sprawled a young woman, her eyes wide open, blood puddled around her chest and head, coating her blonde hair with red.

_God, this is awful._ He coughed, and DeWolff and her partner looked up. “Spider-Cop, reporting for duty.”

“Jesus!” the man said, reaching for his weapon. “What the hell?”

DeWolff put out her hand to stop him. “It’s alright, Monty. I called him.”

The detective was furious. “You called him? What! Why? This is a crime scene! As in, the crime has happened. We don’t need a new one here.”

Spider-Man slowly lowered himself upside-down on a strand of webbing.

“He’s here to help. If this is what we think it is, we need as many eyes out there as we can. And he’s eyes.”

Peter flipped and landed right in between them. “Yes indeed. Some have called my eyes the biggest in the tri-state area.”

Monty scowled at him. “We can’t trust him. He just was wrecking Times Square earlier today! People were hurt!”

Spider-Man crossed his arms. “Actually, that was the weirdo in the cape and his rat groupies. I’m _Spider-_ Man, not Rat-Man.”

The detective shook his head. “This is a mistake, Jean.”

“No, it’s not.”

The detective looked at him for a long moment, and he just stood there, his eyes wide. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll trust you on this. But if this backfires --”

“I’ll take the blame, yes,” DeWolff cut in. “But it won’t. Now, let’s just work together here.”

Peter looked around. His eyes kept flicking back over to the woman in the corner. “Tell me what you wanted to tell me. What happened here?”

“Well,” Jean stuck her hands in her pockets. “From what we’ve gathered, this man here worked on the docks. We’ve been told that’s his girlfriend in the corner. One of the other workers,” she brought out a hand and gestured outside, “told us she would usually come to meet him after she got off from work and they would leave together.”

“I’m guessing being murdered wasn’t on their normal schedule.” Peter glanced at Monty, who looked furious. “Right. Sorry. That was -- I’ll shut up.”

“No,” replied DeWolff. “I’m pretty sure it wasn’t either. A man named Ethan Cohlus found them here a few hours ago when he came in to grab some supplies.”

“So how do you know it’s a serial killer?”

“We _don’t,_ ” growled Monty.

Jean frowned in frustration. “We might not have any concrete evidence yet, but I think the pattern here is obvious.” She turned back to Spider-Man. “Four other people have been found dead in the past week. Two pairs of two people, killed in a similar way -- stab wounds from a thin blade to the chest and neck.”

Peter looked back over at the woman in the corner. Somehow, he couldn’t help but see MJ there in her place. He suppressed a shiver.

“We haven’t found a connection between any of them yet. The victims are all so different -- different genders, social status --”

“But all in this corner of the city. Serial killers don’t always need a type, Monty. Crazy doesn’t need a reason.”

“What do you need me to do?” Peter asked.

DeWolff looked up at him. “You know these streets better than almost anyone. If you can, knock down some doors and help us find answers.”

“Jean, we need to follow the law here!” Monty argued.

She looked at him sharply, her gaze like steel. “Do you want the city in a panic over these killings? We need to move on this quickly, with every available resource. This has to be stopped, _now._ ”

“Of course I don’t. But that doesn’t mean --”

“I’ll ask around.” Peter said. “I can be pretty persuasive.”

“Jean, listen to me!” Monty looked at her, something almost like pity in his eyes. “You’re not thinking straight on this.”

DeWolff was tense, her hands in fists. She looked ready to snap back at him, but then her eyes shifted over to the bodies on the floor. She took a deep breath and seemed to force herself to calm down. “No, Monty. We’re doing what needs to be done.”

Peter looked between them, then said, “Alright. Well, with what I know now I’m still looking into this even if you don’t want me to. I’ll let you know when I find something.” He shot webs at the ceiling.

Monty reached out his arm. “Hey! Wait a minute --”

But he was already gone, swinging through the dark streets.

_This is not good._ He webbed a water tower and swung around it. _How come Jean never calls me for the fun cases? Maybe an investigation into the best brunch spot in the city?_ He ran across a rooftop and jumped off the other side. _I guess it’s time to break out my investigative skills again. I might not be a detective, but Jean’s right. I know this city. And I can make people talk._

* * *

UNDISCLOSED LOCATION, Sunday, 12:09 AM:

“Cletus? Why are you calling me at this hour?” The doctor coughed.

“I did it again.”

A pause. “Are you okay?”

He smiled. “Better than okay. You were right, doc. I just have to help people see what I see.”

“That’s great, Cletus. Good work.”

He looked through his window down on the street below, where a few people were walking home, and nodded. “I’ll make them see.”

He hung up the phone and headed into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading everyone! Things are slowly picking up here. I'm loving working on this, and I'm hoping that the characters are believable - especially Johnny and MJ. Please leave a comment and let me know what you think!


	3. Lazy Sunday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Here's another chapter. Hope you like it!

PETER PARKER’S APARTMENT, Sunday, 10:07 AM:

_ Beep! Beep-Beep! Beep!  _

Peter rolled over and snagged his phone and answered it without looking. “Hello,” he said, his voice full of sleep.

“Hi, Peter, it’s me.” 

“Aunt May?” he sat up and rubbed his eyes. 

“Sorry, dear. Did I wake you up?”

He glanced at his watch. “Uh, no. No, I’m up.”

She laughed. “Okay, then. I’m just calling to see if you’re bringing Mary Jane with you to dinner tonight?” 

_ Agh.  _ Peter screwed up his face and fell back into the mattress. “Oh, um, she’s not gonna be able to make it.”

A pause. “That’s too bad.” 

“Yeah.” He sighed and stared up at his ceiling. “So, I’ll see you tonight, May. Party of two.”

“Sounds good, Peter. Would you mind picking up some butter on the way over here?” 

“Sure, sure,” he replied absently. 

“Okay, see you soon.”

“See ya.” He hung up the phone and tossed it on the bed beside him. 

God, he was tired. He had been out late last night chasing down leads and trying to figure out more about this mysterious killer. What he had come up with was  _ nada.  _ Nothing. After thinking on it, though, he definitely believed Jean. The killings were connected -- he just had to find out how. He planned on going back out that night to find more. 

Now, though, he needed to take care of some Peter Parker things. Like maybe putting some food in his fridge.

* * *

The bell on the door jingled as he walked into the bodega on the corner. Crowded shelves filled the space, and Latin music was playing softly over the speakers. 

“Hey, Francisco,” Peter waved as he walked past the counter. 

“Parker!” Francisco smiled. He was the owner, along with his wife Camila, and usually worked the counter. “Good to see you, man. Feels like it’s been a while.”  

“My fridge is saying the same thing.”

“Get you some food then. You want a sandwich or somethin’? The usual?”

“Nah, I’m --” Peter paused. “Well, actually, sure. Why not.”

Francisco laughed. “Now you’re talkin’. Number three, right?” 

He smiled. “That’s the one. But no mayo.” He gestured to the shelves and picked up a basket from the stack. “I’ll grab it when I check out.”

“You got it _ ,  _ man.” Francisco turned and nodded at another worker who had just walked in from the back. “ _ Numero tres, Rico _ .” 

Peter looked over at a stack of newspapers -- the  _ Daily Bugle  _ among them. “RATS ATTACK TIMES SQUARE -- SPIDER-MAN COLLUDES WITH NEW VILLAIN!” screamed the headline. 

“At least they didn’t call me Rat-Man,” he muttered under his breath. 

He wandered around and grabbed what he needed, nodding his head to the music.  _ Bread, eggs, peanut butter, regular butter -- what else? Oh, right.  _ He was reaching into the fridge for some orange juice when his spider-sense buzzed in his head. He looked at the carton in his hand.  _ What, bad OJ?  _

He heard the bell on the door jingle, and a commanding voice filled the place a second later. “Hands up everyone! ‘Less you wanna get shot!”

_ Okay, bad OJ and an armed robbery. _

Peter hid behind the nearest shelf and peaked out. A tall man wearing a hoodie was standing by the counter, a gun fixed at Francisco. 

“What -- what the fuck, man!” Francisco shouted back. 

_ I gotta sneak out the back and change into the suit, quick!  _ Peter turned and placed his basket on the floor before sneaking towards the back as fast as he could without attracting attention. 

The man pointed the gun at Rico, and then back at Francisco. “I said hands up! And open the register!” 

“Well, I can’t do both!  _ Pinche pendejo! _ ” 

“Move! I’m warnin’ you -- I’ll shoot! Now gimme the money!” 

Peter burst back into the store as Spider-Man. “Didn’t your mom ever teach you to say ‘please’? And to not point guns at people?” The robber turned in shock and Peter webbed the gun, pulling it away just as he pulled the trigger. The bullet passed harmlessly through the ceiling, and the gun flew across the shop and skittered to the floor. 

Francisco looked just as shocked for a moment, and then raised up his arms and pumped his fists. “Hell yeah! Get it, Spider-Man!” 

“Ah… Shit!” the man tripped over his feet to back up, then turned and ran for the door. 

Peter leapt forwards, knocked the guy in the back, and pinned him to the ground with his foot before webbing his hands to the floor. “Obviously your mom didn’t teach you ‘excuse me’ either.” He stepped back as the would-be thief struggled against the webbing. 

“ _ Joder!”  _ Rico’s eyes were wide as he looked between Spider-Man and the man now desperately trying to pull his hands from the floor. 

“Gotta run, fellas. Call the police on this fool for me, would you?” Peter gave a mock solute, shot a web through the door, and pulled himself through. 

He smiled as he hurriedly pulled his street clothes back on in the alley behind the store.  _ That felt good.  _ He stuffed his mask in his pocket, then crept back in to get his groceries. Armed robber on the floor or no, he still needed food.

* * *

Peter was sitting on top of a building, his legs dangling over the side and his mask pulled up enough to eat his sandwich, when he got a call from DeWolff. 

He answered, his mouth full. “Spidey here. What’s up, Detective?”

“Just calling to update you. Detective Monty and I have gotten full control of the case, and we’re pushing the serial killer angle.”

He swallowed. “Monty came around?”

“Well, he knows it’s best to follow my lead,” she replied wryly. “But we also got results back from the lab an hour ago. Matching fabric threads were found at the first and second crime scenes, and footprints from the same boots were found in the first and third crime scenes. That gives us enough evidence to officially look into these cases as connected killings.” 

“Well, that’s something.”

“It also gives us a glimpse into the killer, and no matter how small it might be, these things add up.”

“What do you mean?” asked Peter.

“Well, the threads tell us he was wearing jeans.”

He took another bite of his sandwich. “Ah. Illuminating.”

Jean huffed in frustration, and continued, “The footprints might be more useful. Putting partials together, it’s measured at size twelve, with what looks like a boot tread -- like a combat boot. Analyzing the stride, we can guess his height at somewhere between 5’10” and 6’5”.”

Peter raised his eyebrows.  _ All from some footprints?  _ “Wow. Do you guys ever sleep over there?” 

“No.”

He quirked a smile. “Well, okay. So he’s a big guy. We can work with that.” 

Jean gave a noise of affirmation. “It’s a start. Did you find anything useful last night?” 

Peter felt guilty when he replied, “No. Nothing. None of my usual sources have heard anything about these killings. But I’m going back out again. I have a few ideas on where to ask questions.”

“Okay, well, let me know what you find. Even if it’s nothing.”

“Will do, Wolfy.” He paused, then added, “How are you doing, by the way? You seem tense about this case… more than usual, anyway.”

“I’m fine,” she replied shortly, sounding not fine at all. “We just need to take care of this before more people die.”

“Right,” Peter responded slowly. “Of course. Well, if you ever need a pick me up, I know a lot of wolf related jokes!” He smiled. “Like, what do you call a lost wolf? A where-wolf! Get it?” 

He heard DeWolff give a long-suffering sigh before she ended call the call without comment. 

“Wolfy?” He shrugged and took another bite of his delicious sandwich. “Ah, she loves it.”

* * *

QUEENS, Sunday, 5:50 PM:

Peter swung between buildings on his way to Aunt May’s house, his mind and his body going a mile a minute. He considered everything going on. 

_ So Mysterio attacks Times Square hoping to figure out my identity, and then disappears, along with everything he brought with him. How did he do that? Maybe it is magic.  _

He ran along one wall and jumped off the other side. 

_ But then, that woman… why didn’t he just use a real person? I mean, I’m glad he didn’t, but there were plenty of people around to choose from.  _

The buildings and houses began to spread out as he got closer to May’s.  _ Thwip! _

_ Here’s something: surely using magic he would be able to be more precise than to have her actions on a loop. Also, I’ve seen magic before, and this just doesn’t feel right.  _

Peter jumped from one rooftop to another, then jumped down in between them and changed into his street clothes.  _ I wonder when he’ll show up again.  _

He walked out onto the street, the trees casting shadows over him. The sun was setting on the horizon.

_ Then there’s the killings. Six dead already. I’m almost hoping these murders are connected to the crime families in some way. Because if not, that means this guy is even more dangerous. I’ll figure that out tonight, though.  _

He jumped over the fence and into May’s yard, his spirits lifting as he saw the familiar house.  _ Just being here makes me feel better.  _ It always felt like his problems weighed less when he was back here. He pushed aside his thoughts and walked through the door. 

“Aunt May!” he called out. “I’m here!” He dropped his bag by the front hall table and strode further into the house. 

He heard a voice from the kitchen. “In here, Peter!” 

Peter entered the bright room to see May chopping vegetables, an apron tied around her waist. She put down the knife, wiped her hands off on the apron, and held her arms out for a hug. Peter was happy to comply. 

They hugged tight, and then May stepped back to look at him. “Why do I feel like you’re getting skinnier?” She frowned. “Have you been eating enough?” 

Peter laughed. “Yes, May. I just grabbed some more groceries this morning, actually.”

“That’s good.”

He looked around and clapped his hands once. “Now, how can I help?”

She picked up the knife again and went back to chopping. “We both know you’re better help out of the kitchen than in, dear,” she chuckled. “I’m almost done here, really. Just have to put these veggies in the oven with the chicken.” She looked over at him. “You could make a salad, I suppose. That’s easy. Do you want a salad?”

He smiled. “Sure. Sounds like something I can handle.”

As they worked next to each other, May questioned him about what he had been up to.

“I saw your name in the paper today. You’re taking pictures again?” She chopped a potato into pieces. 

“Oh, uh,” He pulled out a bowl. “Just a few. It’s fun -- and as a plus I get a little extra money.”

“Oh, yeah. Did you figure out what to do about those school supplies?” she asked while cutting an onion in half.

Peter shrugged. “I just have to pay for them. It’s annoying, but I won’t be able to teach any classes soon if we don’t have them, so what can I do?”

She diced the onion into smaller pieces, and pushed some over to him for the salad. “It just seems ridiculous. You should ask them for a refund.”

He shook his head, thinking of Julie in Administration. “I’ll try, but I don’t think that will work. The school’s just low on funds.” He tossed some lettuce in a bowl. “Don’t worry, though. It’s nothing much.”

“If you say so.” May pushed the veggies onto a tray. “What was the party you went to last night?”

He grabbed a bottle of dressing from the fridge and tossed it in the salad. “Uh, it was a party for John Jameson, Jonah’s son.”

“Oh yeah? I’ve met him before, he’s a nice boy.”

“Yeah, he’s a good guy. Don’t know how that happened, with what Jonah’s like.”

“Peter!” May scolded. “Don’t talk bad about people.”

“Just joking,” he smiled. “John’s an astronaut now, and just got back from some exploratory mission. They’re opening a temporary exhibit about it in the planetarium.” 

May seasoned the veggies and put the tray in the oven. “Wow, that’s incredible!” She elbowed him in the side with a smile. “When’s your space flight, huh?” 

He chuckled, “I don’t think that’s in my future, May.”

“Then what is?” she asked, surreptitiously checking the salad to make sure it was edible. 

Peter stepped back and leaned against the counter. “I’m not sure.”

“Well, how do you feel about teaching? Do you think that’s something you could keep pursuing?” 

He shrugged. “You know this was a really last minute thing. They needed help, and I came in to fill a hole. I mean, there are parts I really enjoy. When the kids are engaged, and having fun, so am I. It’s tough, though. Most of them just don’t have the motivation to try very hard.”

May walked out to the living room to take a seat, and Peter followed her. “I’m sure you’re having more of an impact than you think.” She turned on a lamp. “But whatever you do, you should think about going back to school and getting a graduate degree.”

They sat down across from one another, and Peter nodded. “I’ve been thinking the same thing, honestly. Being a science teacher is rewarding, but I’d like to be out there working on what’s new. You know, discovering new things, working to solve problems.”

His aunt smiled and leaned back in her chair. “Well, there you go. You’re so smart, Peter, and I’m so proud of you. Wherever you go you’ll do great.”

“Thanks, May,” he replied softly. “That means a lot.”

She smiled at him for a moment before raising her eyebrows. “So… Where’s Mary Jane?”

Peter tried not to look guilty as his heart clenched in his chest. “Like I said, she’s -- uh... busy.”

May looked at him knowingly. “What’s going on between you two? You haven’t split up, have you?”

He shook his head. “No! No…” He looked at his lap. “We just -- it’s… well, it’s complicated.” There was no way he could explain what they were really fighting about -- it was too connected to the part of his life he kept from Aunt May. 

“Honesty,” May said after a pause. “That’s what got me and Ben through the rough patches.”

Peter looked up, surprised. “You guys had rough patches?”

“Oh, sure. Especially when we were your age.” She smiled. “Emotions run fast when you’re young.” She reached forwards to put a hand on Peter’s knee. “I know you both care about each other. I think the two of you can work it out.” 

“I hope so.” He gave a small sigh, then shook his head and quirked a smile. “No more about me now, May. I feel like I’ve just been interrogated.” May laughed. “What have you been up to? Any drama at the bridge table?”

“Oh, Peter,” she replied with a smile. “More than you’d guess.”

* * *

Later, the radio was playing in the kitchen as Peter was picking up the dishes off the table. 

“By the way, Peter,” May called from the kitchen, “did you bring that butter with you? I can’t find it.” 

“Oh no!” he exclaimed. He quickly put the plates on the counter and ran to his bag by the door. He reached in and pulled out the box of butter. Liquid was going through the cardboard. He groaned. “Ugh, gross.” He held it out carefully in front of him as he walked back to the kitchen. “Sorry, May. I forgot about it. It’s… pretty soft.” He looked at her pitifully. 

May looked back for a moment, eyes flicking down to the butter in his hand, then up to his face, before she burst out laughing. “Oh, goodness. You really are a smart boy, aren’t you.”

Peter smiled. “Hey!” he said indignantly. “At least I remembered to buy it!”

She was still laughing. “I was going to make you some cookies, but now…” she shook her head, amused. “Just put it in the fridge. Maybe it will firm up.”

He opened the fridge. “Sorry.” 

Peter noticed as May stopped laughing and frowned, her hand moving up to her chest. 

He walked over to her, concerned. “Are you okay?”

She looked up at him in surprise, then smiled. “Yes, Peter. I’m fine. Just heartburn, you know.”

He was distracted as the song playing on the radio ended, and the announcer’s voice came over the air. Peter frowned as he heard the man say,  _ “We have some breaking news here, folks. Police are warning everyone to stay away from the  _ Daily Bugle  _ building.” _

“The Bugle?” He looked at May. 

The announcer continued: “ _ I’m being told that they’re blocking off the whole street, and the police have called a hostage threat.” _

“Oh my!” exclaimed May. 

_ Got to get over there!  _ Peter thought. “May, uh, thank you so much for dinner --”

“Are you going over there?” She looked worried. 

“Just -- I can take pictures. I’m sure Spider-Man will be there.”

May looked at him like he was crazy. “And the paper you sell those pictures to is being attacked!”

“It’s okay, May. I won’t get close, but I need to go. I have friends in that building.”

She considered him for a moment. Then she put a hand on his arm and nodded. “Okay. Well, take some of this food with you. And the pumpkin bread. I know you never want to cook for yourself.”

“Okay,” he replied quickly, his mind already out the door. 

_ “They’re saying now this is the work of the criminal the Scorpion! Again, police are advising to clear the area. Do not go near.” _

_ Scorpion! Not good!  _ Peter grabbed the food and kissed May quickly on her cheek. “Gotta go! I’ll stay at a safe distance. Thanks for dinner!”

“Be careful, Peter!” she called after him, her hand over her chest. “And call me when you make it home!”

* * *

Peter got to the  _ Bugle  _ just in time to see Scorpion bust through the windows of the top floor. Glass shattered and rained down on the street, and screams rang from inside.

He landed on the roof and crawled down to the window to look in. 

“Where the hell is Jameson!?” Scorpion roared, stomping forwards. He picked up a desk and threw it into the wall. “Where is he hiding?” His tail curled around his head, the poisoned stinger glinting as he turned on the group huddled on the other side of the room. Peter saw Betty and Ned among them. “Tell me!”

One bald man near the back was shaking. He started to stutter, “Look, don’t hurt us, he--”

Ned quickly moved in front of the group, his arms outstretched protectively as Scorpion marched forwards. “We’ve told you, he’s not here!” he cried, cutting off the other man. 

Betty reached out, “Ned, no!” 

He grabbed her hand and looked her in the eye. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay,” Scorpion growled, advancing towards Ned. “Not unless Jameson shows himself!” 

_ Time to move. Distract to get the hostages out, then attack.  _ “What, did he write a bad headline about you?” Peter called out. Scorpion’s head spun to watch as Peter flipped to land in a crouch between him and the  _ Bugle  _ workers. “Misspell your name?” He cocked his head. “I wouldn’t take it so personal. That’s kind of his thing.” 

Scorpion’s eyes flared. “Spider-Man.”

“You know what they say, don’t wear it out.” 

His tail swished behind his back threateningly. “I’d say it’s good to see you again… but it isn’t.”

“Aw, I’m hurt.” Peter quickly gestured to the group behind him and they began to run into the next room. 

“Don’t get involved here. This is between me and Jameson,” Scorpion snarled. 

“You know, most people make an appointment.” He moved forwards. “Anyway, seems like you’ve already involved a few other people, so what’s the harm?” People were still running away behind him. 

“Get out of my way!” Scorpion roared. He ran at Peter, then swung his tail, trying to knock him off of his feet. 

Peter jumped over the tail and planted a foot in his face. Scorpion barely stumbled back as he grabbed the foot and swung Spider-Man into the nearest wall. Frames and papers fell to the ground, but Peter shook off the hit, and dove to the side just in time to avoid the stab of that poison tail. 

He spun and webbed Scorpion’s chest, then used that to pull himself towards him. Peter’s feet connected with his green chest, and Scorpion landed with a crash on the wood floor. Before Scorpion could grab him, Peter jumped up onto the ceiling and webbed down his fists. 

“Aagh!” Scorpion yelled, pulling against the webbing. 

“Now sit there and think about what you’ve done,” Peter said, before rushing towards the civilians. He dropped down and placed his hand on an elderly man’s back, moving him forwards. “Quickly, people! The stairs, not the elevator! Goodness, it’s like you’ve never fled from a sinister villain before.” 

Ned Leeds moved towards him quickly, his eyes darting over to where Scorpion was held down. “Spider-Man!” he said quickly. “Jameson is here! He’s in his office, with Robb-- with another guy. You have to help them out of there!”

“Did Scorpion say what he wanted with Jameson?”

Ned shook his head. “He didn’t explain.” 

“Well, it’s safe to assume he doesn’t want his autograph.” Peter looked at the group of people and saw Betty standing by the stairs holding the door open. She was looking back at the two of them, her face pale. “Keep helping everyone out of here for me. I’ll get Jameson.”

“Got it. Thanks, Spider-Man.”

“No problem.” Peter felt a flash of his spider sense as Scorpion ripped the floorboards apart and sprang to his feet. “Now, move!” he yelled, before leaping back into the action. 

He ducked just as that barbed tail sailed for his face, and it whooshed over his head. He brought his fist into Scorpion’s jaw, sending the brute stumbling back. 

Scorpion snarled. “I came here to settle the score with Jameson, but you’re next on my list!” 

He moved fast, and suddenly Peter was crashing through a wall. He groaned. “Okay, not cool, man.” He shook the dust off and looked up to see Jameson and Robbie standing in the corner, and Scorpion rushing towards the crumbling wall.  _ Oh, great.  _ “Stay back!” he snapped. 

Scorpion burst through the wall, drywall exploding around him. “Jameson!” he bellowed. 

Spider-Man backflipped onto his hands, then pushed off and knocked his feet into Scorpion’s side. “You do realize there are these things called doors?” He punched the green chest. “You. Need. To. Relax!” His last punch sent Scorpion flying back into the wall. 

Scorpion pulled himself to his feet. “You don’t know what he did to me! He’s the reason I’m a freak!”

_ Huh. Wonder what he means by that.  _ “Yeah, even without the tail I have a feeling you’re not a fun guy.”

Jonah, of course, felt the need to speak up for himself. “I didn’t do anything you didn’t agree to, you lunatic! It’s not my fault!”

“Oh yeah? Well, I didn’t agree to  _ this!”  _ He waved his tail above his head, his features twisted in rage. “And you’re gonna pay for it!”

Peter rushed to stand in front of Scorpion. “Now, now, there’s no need --”

“Enough of you!” Scorpion snapped forwards and grabbed Spider-Man, securing his arms to his sides, his grip crushing. Peter felt bones shifting and grinding, and then he was flying, crashing through the window and out into the open air. 

He scrambled to web the side of the building and swung back in, glass scratching his arms. His eyes widened when he saw Scorpion standing over Jonah, his tail held threateningly above him. Robbie was on the ground a few feet away, his face bloody. 

There was no time. Peter did the only thing he could do, and put himself in between Scorpion and Jonah. 

As he pushed Jameson aside, he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder, and knew that the tail had pierced his skin. 

He didn’t pause, only punched Scorpion in the jaw, knocking him down. Then he webbed his back and threw him out the window. The web attached to the side of the building, and Peter wrapped up Scorpion in webs, cocooning him so he couldn’t get free. 

“No!” Scorpion yelled, wriggling in the air. “This wasn’t your fight, Spider-Man, but it is now, mark my words!”

Peter felt his head begin to pound. “Yeah, yeah. Save it, meathead.” A last burst of webbing covered Scorpions mouth, and the criminal could only grunt as he fought to get free. 

Spider-Man flipped back into Jameson’s office. Jonah was crouched next to Robbie, helping him sit up. He ignored how his eyesight was beginning to waver. “Are you two alright?”

Jonah looked up at him, wide eyed. “You -- you saved my life!”

Peter cocked his head. “Was that what just happened?”

“I can’t believe it! Gargan wanted to kill me, and you --” Suddenly he looked around, and his eyes narrowed. “You destroyed my building!”

“There we go. Thought you might have had head trauma for a second.” The pain in his head spiked, and he blinked slowly. The room felt like it was spinning around him. It must have been the poison.  _ I have to fix this, fast… Ugh, my head…  _

“Spider-Man?” 

Peter focused to see Robbie looking up at him expectantly. He shook his head, trying desperately to clear it. “You… I think it’s good now. Scorpion’s wrapped up. It’s a wrap. I…” he brought a hand to his head. “I gotta go.”

He burst out of another window, glass flying, ignoring the indignant cries from Jameson. Scorpion was still tied up, hanging by the web outside the building. 

His vision was waving in his eyes, and his head was pounding like it was being slammed by a hammer. He flung himself onto a neighboring roof and pulled up his mask, gasping for air. His thoughts were spinning, and he couldn’t seem to hold on to any of them. 

_ What… Where did I go? Where am I?  _ He looked around and recognized nothing, his sight spinning too much to make anything out.  

“Help… I need --” He cut himself off with a groan as the pain increased. “Where’s help? Where’s safe?”

His body moved of its own accord. His blood felt like acid in his veins. 

He was swinging, but where?

What 

                How

     Where

Suddenly he was standing in front of a door. He knocked, but he couldn’t feel his hands. 

His feet felt like jello under him, and he swayed. His head leaned forwards into the door. He felt the grains of the wood on his face, heard the sounds of people talking miles away, smelled the ocean. His thoughts tripped over one another, each trying to stay afloat with the others but all sinking beneath the surface. 

The door opened slowly, and he heard a voice. 

“You know, Peter, when I said we could get dinner, I didn’t mean just show up at my door -- Oh my God! Are you okay?”

The voice was familiar, it felt safe. He grabbed onto the wall and tried to blink the haze from his eyes. “What’sgoingon?” he slurred, the words barely making it out of his mouth. 

He felt hands on his shoulders, and he was moved inside, the door clicking shut behind him. He stumbled forwards. His feet wouldn’t cooperate, and he fell to his knees. He heard the sound but didn’t feel it as he hit the floor. 

“Peter?” he felt cool hands on his face. “Tell me what to do. What do I do?”

Pain filled his limbs, and darkness crowded his vision. The world felt like it was far away, sounds coming through a filter. 

A sting at his cheek. “Peter!”

But he couldn’t stay focused. 

Couldn’t

      Stay

             Awake.

His eyes slipped closed and he tumbled into the abyss. 

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus points if you can catch all the references in here. I'm pulling lines and moments from all over the place.  
> Thanks for reading! Leave a comment, I'd love any kind of feedback!  
> Also, how is the length of this chapter? Too Long? Good?  
> Okay bye see you soon


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